


Ache

by paxch1



Category: Batman (Movies - Nolan), Joker (2019)
Genre: Crossdressing, Established Relationship, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Tenderness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-03
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:20:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21658921
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paxch1/pseuds/paxch1
Summary: He felt good. He wouldn’t be smiling otherwise.
Relationships: Arthur Fleck & Joker (DCU), Arthur Fleck/Joker
Comments: 2
Kudos: 81





	Ache

Repulsive. That was the word. That’s what he was. The thoughts, the skin, his voice, his smell, his being, everything. With his eyes shut Arthur could almost see, almost touch the filth seeping its way back into his skull. It felt like vomit. It felt like death; The thought of touch, the thought of a man, The thought of anyone here but himself. He died with his eyes closed.

When they inevitably opened yet again, he was there. The other joker was there. His hair was green; It’s hanging off of his face like slicked down curtains. He’s licking his left scar. Looking right back at Arthur. Holding him. With him.

The situation takes a minute to come back to mind. There’s a man on top of Arthur. Yet this time he isn’t scared. This time he thinks he asked. 

Yes, he remembers now. He wanted it. He loved it. He loved the man on him, The man in him. This felt good. He felt good. He wouldn’t be smiling otherwise. This time he didn’t cry. This time he didn’t die.

The other man had ceased his movements after Arthur opened back up, he seemed to have recognized his tension.

Looking back up, Arthur sees that the man on top was wearing some sort of sleeveless gown, thin and red, tight, pulled up past his hips,, essentially folding and hanging off of his torso. Arthur recalls the man insisting on it, and he wasn’t one to complain. It accentuated his shape, larger and stronger in comparison to Arthur’s own. 

The man on top says nothing still, just moves his fingers to Arthur’s lips. Tracing along him. He had forgotten he had lipstick on. They both did. His eyes crawled up to the taller man’s neck, The sight making him smirk. 

[yet there’s still more on mine..]

He couldn’t tell if he had spoken or thought, but it didn’t matter. The joker would’ve known what he’d meant. He pressed his finger in, rubbing against Arthur’s tongue, spreading the involuntary salivation. 

The taller man leaned down and kissed his neck, licked him, still not having exited his body. He just wanted to touch him, look at him. He wants to feel the man beneath and be felt by him. Arthur finds his fingers again and entangles them in the chartreuse curls.

He had dreams about this man. Dreams about him stroking his innards, consuming his very being. He never hurts him. The other man cuts him open and asks where Arthur wants him to be. He has dreams about kissing him, not always with open lips, His presence pleasing enough. He wants this man to be with him always. 

He always forgets to ask where he goes when he leaves. He always smells of gasoline, the good kind, the kind Arthur could be glad to die surrounded by. He could slice this man’s skin and still smell that sting.

It really hurts. Aches. In a way, he finally has his ideal closeness. He found the perfect other. He’s scared he’ll disappear. Terrified.

He wants this time to last. He pushes at the man’s hips, urging him out. The man complies.

“It’s okay,, it’s okay, I just-“

He moves the taller man’s legs up around himself, sitting him just above his dick. 

He makes an attempt to sit up a bit further and finds his fingers, now twitching, and takes to stroking along the other man’s backside, along his spine, along his muscle, along the numerous scars he finds to be sensitive and knows not any of the origins.

The joker exhales and moves a hand back. Arthur exhales and grips the taller man’s waist ever tighter.

He’s so warm, so warm. So close. So warm. The man’s skin makes Arthur forget how cold and pathetic his little bruised & bandaged fingers are, they’re so warm.. so close together.

“How considerate”

Arthur forgets how long it’s been since he’s heard that voice.

He could be glad to die like this.


End file.
